


The Not Quite Safe Mode

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Series: Emotionally Impeded Displays of Admiration [3]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose might be completely oblivious to it, but there was an epic war being waged just a little ways across the console room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Not Quite Safe Mode

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Then There's Us Ficathon in mid-2011. The fic takes place not long after the conclusion of Emotionally Impeded Displays of Admiration.

Rose was taking a nap in the corner on a large, fluorescent pink cushion that the TARDIS had pulled from Lord knew where (quite possibly Rose’s own bedroom, knowing her tastes) so she didn’t have to lie on the grating. She was curled around herself with her thumb loosely hanging from her mouth and a lock of her hair half obscuring closed eyes.

The Doctor wanted to just sit by her side and stare and _stare_ at her in absolute awe. She was so _pretty_.

Unfortunately, the Doctor was a little too busy to just stop and look at that moment. Rose might be completely oblivious to it, but there was an epic war being waged just a little ways across the console room.

“Hey, that’s mine! Don’t break it!” the Doctor shouted, chasing ineffectively several paces behind the Master as the little brat ran round the console, pulling at bits of wiring and laughing manically. The Doctor was grateful that at least the Master wasn’t tall enough to properly reach the actual console controls, even though it meant the Doctor was also in the exact same position.

When the Doctor managed to stop the Master’s rampage by tackling him to the ground, finally, they wrestled around like animals fighting over a scrap of meat. The Doctor kicked at the Master’s shins with his little plimsolls, distantly noticing that the shoelaces were undone and wondering if he actually remembered how to retie them. The Master, on the other hand, unsurprisingly resorted to dirty tactics, pinching the Doctor hard until he had to leap back with a yelp.

The Master eyed the mallet hanging from the console speculatively, then. The Doctor had the feeling that he would have dearly liked to whack the Doctor over the head with it, if only it wasn’t too heavy for him to actually lift it.

The Doctor wouldn’t have minded returning the favour, actually.

He would’ve said that he couldn’t believe the Master had landed them in this situation, but it would have been a lie. He knew full well that the Master was capable of just about anything, even if he couldn’t remember precisely _why_ he knew that. Still, he was pretty sure it could have been worse. He couldn’t remember what the purpose of that button the Master had pressed was, but he was pretty sure it was _bad_. Worse than this.

Of course, whatever the TARDIS had saved them from, he didn’t think this was exactly how the ship had intended to do so. She must have had more than her usual screws loose to think that the best way to put herself into ‘safe mode’ was to change her three occupants into ‘harmless’ five year olds. As if the Master was safe at _any_ age. It might’ve been a different matter if they’d been reverted to the way they actually _were_ as young children, before little Koschei had ever been forced to look into the Time Vortex, but it was clear that wasn’t the case. The Master, after all, hadn’t looked like a younger version of his most recent regeneration when he was at the Academy. The Doctor also certainly wouldn’t have recognised Rose Tyler or felt such inherent fondness towards her if all of his memories past a certain age were completely eradicated, rather than just uncomfortably compressed. Just the idea of looking at Rose and not knowing her made his little hearts ache.

The Master finally plucked at one thing too many, though the TARDIS retaliated by zapping him much more lightly than the ship usually would have, clearly putting more stock than the Doctor did in the fact that the Master was now a child in body, if not completely in mind. The Doctor could tell that the TARDIS’s disciplinary action had barely stung him, but the Master, being the Master, still embarked on a display of ridiculous theatrics that included kicking the TARDIS console repeatedly in a tantrum, and simultaneously gushing out a string of foul curses that the TARDIS pointedly refused to translate (though the Doctor’s mental acuteness wasn’t so distorted that he couldn’t still understand the meaning, and he could hardly believe that even the Master, especially the tiny and deceptively innocent-looking little person the Master was currently masquerading as, was creative and depraved enough to think of doing that with _that_ ).

The Doctor’s memory might have been a little hazy, with his suddenly smaller than usual brain unable to handle it all, but he distinctly recalled having been through just this sort of thing a number of times before. The Master clearly hadn’t grown up in the slightest since he actually _had_ been five years old.

The Doctor succumbed momentarily to another of the waves of dizziness that kept assaulting him intermittently, his body and mind’s way of trying to adjust to the change. He felt as if his brain was about to split apart from the shock of suddenly having to pack such a large amount of knowledge (if he did say so himself) into such a tiny space.

When the dizziness incapacitating the Doctor fully passed, he became aware of a loud, “Ooooowwww!” cried from across the room, this time not coming from the Master.

The Doctor clambered around the console, bringing Rose into view. He saw that the Master was pulling painfully on her ponytail. That couldn’t have been a pleasant way to be woken up. The Doctor didn’t appreciate that the Master had disturbed her and now was hurting her _at all_.

“Ow! No!” Rose forcefully slapped the Master’s hand away from her hair. That looked like it hurt, the Doctor thought happily, though a vague memory of some other time where skin hit skin painfully stopped him from feeling completely smug about Rose’s inborn slapping abilities. “Boys don’t ever hurt girls,” Rose insisted.

Something deep inside the Doctor, slightly beyond his current understanding, told him that he’d reflect on that statement later with a sense of guilt. For now, at least, he’d make sure the Master didn’t get the chance to prove Rose’s firm assertion wrong.   
Reaching her side, the Doctor pulled Rose behind himself, her hand slightly sweaty in his. “Mine,” he said challengingly to the Master. The Master wasn’t going to be allowed to hurt what was his to protect, he conveyed with a stubborn look, whether that be Rose or the TARDIS.

Rose shook her hand free from his, though, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder at her. “Um, no. I’m _mine_ ,” she corrected, crossing her arms challengingly in front of her.

The Master giggled – honest to Rassilon giggled, and the Doctor was going to try _very_ hard to remember that so that he could taunt him about it later, presuming they ever got back to normal – and pointed at Rose.

“You’re funny,” he said. Rose actually smiled slightly at that hard-won concession.

The Doctor, put out that Rose was apparently choosing the Master over him and unsure what else to do about _that_ strange turn of events, sat down on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest and pouted.

He felt a hand patting his head a minute later. He looked up into the big brown eyes of the girl now crouching beside him.

“I still like you,” Rose confessed. “Friends?”

The Doctor beamed up at her and revelled in the tingling stroke of her fingers through his wild hair. “ _Best_ friends,” he agreed.

He heard the Master mutter something about them being way too mushy to live, but he didn’t really care in that moment.

“Y’know, my mate Shareen says you can have _two_ best friends,” Rose said. “Everyone’s s’posed to learn to share, yeah?” She looked over at the Master, who was pretending not to be paying attention to the two of them.

The Doctor glanced over at the Master as well, horrified that Rose would even suggest that such a thing might be possible. There was _no way_. Rose could insist she was her own person all she liked, but the Doctor still wasn’t about to let the Master have any piece of her. And there was no way _he’d_ voluntarily be friends with the Master (at least he hoped so, since he couldn’t properly remember).

The Master apparently agreed. “Nuh uh. I’ll kill you both,” he said defiantly. “I’ll smother you with your big, stupid pink thing, don’t think I won’t.”

Rose cast a slightly worried look at the cushion in question, but seemed to quickly decide it wasn’t much of a threat.

“Silly. I think you just need a hug,” Rose said.

The Master spluttered, too indignant to speak, and it was the Doctor’s turn to laugh. The Master stormed off to go sit in the corner to play with some five dimensional molecular building blocks that the TARDIS had apparently found to keep him occupied, clearly not wanting to have to deal with the Doctor and Rose any longer.

Rose had managed to shut the Master up _and_ make him leave them alone, the Doctor thought with a sense of wonderment.

I love you, he thought at Rose. He had some vague recollection that saying those words might be a bad idea (though he really couldn’t remember _why_ ), so he kept his adoration silent. Still, he figured it couldn’t hurt to _show_ her how he felt. Silently, of course.

The Doctor leaned over and pecked Rose on the cheek. Rose looked away, suddenly shy, before glancing back at him and smiling.

It figured that the TARDIS, deciding that everything had calmed down and that no one was likely to go about flicking her universal implosion switch just for fun again, would choose that moment to switch back out of ‘safe mode’.

The Doctor, suddenly normal-sized, found himself practically sprawled on top of Rose. Becoming aware of their closeness after a split-second, and remembering the way he’d just kissed her as well, he felt himself blush from head to toe and then practically cannon-balled himself across the room to put some space between them.

“Thank god,” the Master said. “I think I’ve changed my mind about you two getting it over with so you’ll stop dancing around each other. You’re even _more_ nauseating when your inhibitions are down.”

The Doctor, unsure what to say to that, cleared his throat. “Um, well. So. Where to next?”

“Please,” the Master sneered, “for the love of the few tolerable things in this wretched universe, take us somewhere – anywhere – where you can drop me off. I can’t stand being stuck here with you two anymore.”

The Doctor sensed that the Master wasn’t being entirely truthful, which was confusing. Why _wouldn’t_ the Master want to get away from them as fast as possible? He’d figured out a while ago that the Master didn’t hate Rose as much as he tried to make out he did, and things between the Doctor and the Master had always been... _complicated_ , but that didn’t mean he actually _liked_ being with either of them.

He thought briefly of the suggestion the younger Rose had made that they should all try to get along, and be friends even, but then dismissed it out of hand.

Like that would ever happen.

~FIN~


End file.
